A Shared Medal is Worth a Thousand Assists
“Okay but dude you should have seen them!” Brendon exclaimed, all toothless and beaming. “I was way better than like, all of them put together!”
The other boy scoffed, “No way. I’m better than you, but I’m not even that good.”
“You’re not better than me!” Brendon retorted, sniffing loudly to stop the snot that was leaking from his nostrils.
“Brendon, you were not better than all the guys on your brother’s team,” Ryan said. “I haven’t even seen them and I know that’s not true.”
“Maybe I am then! You don’t know anything,” Brendon pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ryan glanced at him, then away quickly, brow furled.
“Okay maybe you were better than like half of them,” he conceded.
Brendon grinned, and swung his legs contentedly, just barely missing his father’s knee with the blade of his skate.
“Brendon!” His dad snapped, and held his legs still. “Stop moving for two seconds, would you?”
“Sorry dad,” he said. As he waited for his father to tie the laces of his skates, his full concentration was on keeping his body perfectly still.
The two boys were sitting in a small change room, packed full of other players and their parents who were helping them to get their equipment on for the big game. With Ryan fully changed and Brendon needing just his skates, the two boys were almost ready to go on. The room reeked of sweat and success, the white brick walls telling a thousand stories of boys who had won and lost games, names scrawled across them in a fashion that could be deemed as vandalism, or an act of pride.
“Are you playing rep next year Brendon?” Ryan asked, breaking the silence between them.
“Yeah!” Brendon beamed. “I'm playing for the Hurricanes, just like all my brothers.”
“Oh,” Ryan frowned. “I'm playing for the Huskies.”
Brendon’s smile faltered, as he looked at his friend who seemed equally disappointed, “Oh. Well that’s kind of lame, we won’t get to play together anymore.”
Ryan looked down at his feet, “Yeah. I guess we’ll be like rivals then,” he said in monotone. The vibrant buzz and excitement of the final game seemed to have disappeared between the two of them, faded into a feeling of grey disappointment.
“Try not to look so down,” Brendon’s dad interrupted the two disappointed boys. “It’s your rival that really pushes you to get better. With such great opponents, you two will work way harder.”
“Yeah sure, Coach Boyd,” Ryan said and Brendon nodded along with him.
“I’m not kidding!” Brendon’s dad said. “You’ll work way harder to try to beat each other than any other players. It’s the extra competition that really helps you get better.”
“But we’ll only play each other a few times every year!” Brendon argued. “It won’t be the same.”
“Try to cheer up, boys,” Brendon’s dad finished tying his son’s skates and stood up. He ruffled Brendon’s hair, and received a glare in compensation. “It’s not the end of the world and we have a big game ahead of us. Last game of the season! We want to make it count.”
“Whatever you say, Coach,” was Ryan’s hollow reply.
Brendon’s dad left the two boys where they sat and walked over to converse with the other coaches. Brendon let his legs swing freely again and he watched them swing, back and forth, back and forth.
“We can still hang out, you know,” Brendon said. “My dad’s kinda right.”
Ryan nodded slowly.
“And well... Maybe we won’t be on the same team anymore but we can still help each other to get better,” Brendon said, unconvinced. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he exclaimed, “I’ve got it!”
“What?” Ryan asked.
“We’ll do what my dad said, be rivals, right? And then we’ll get so good that we can play in the NHL together!” Brendon babbled. “It’s perfect!”
Ryan smiled, “On the same team, right?”
“Obviously!” Brendon grinned back. He was excited again, happy for the game ahead. He knew that someday, he and his friend would play together in the NHL. On the Ottawa Senators, of course, no other team would do.
The horn buzzed in the arena, which meant the game before theirs had ended and the Zamboni was about to hit the ice. Ten minutes left until they would do the same.
“Score a goal for me, okay Ryro?” Brendon overheard Ryan's mother say.
“Just one?” Ryan returned smugly. His mother placed his helmet on his head and pressed a kiss to the top of it.
“My little superstar,” she breathed out, doing up the chin strap. Brendon noticed that she seemed slightly distracted, but didn’t think too much of it.
Brendon always wondered why it was always Ryan's mom in the dressing room with him, instead of his dad like all of the other boys. He didn't really question it too much though, he just allowed his father to do the same with his helmet. The cage of his helmet went over his eyes, and his already blurry vision now had a grid of metal across it.
The team was called to attention by a shrill whistle from Brendon’s father. In an instant, the noise level in the changeroom went from that of 15 excited seven year old boys to so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
“Alright boys, this is it, the last game of the season,” his father said. “I want you all to know that it’s been a pleasure coaching all of you. I’ve enjoyed having you all on my team and watching you grow as players.
“I hope you all continue to play hockey in the future, whether that’s in rep or house league hockey,” he said, glancing knowingly at his son, who blinked at him expectantly.
“We made it to the finals boys! Whether we win or not, that's still a big accomplishment. I still fully expect you to work your hardest. So let's go out there and win this thing!”
The boys whooped in excitement, their small voices a cacophony in the crowded room.
“Let's do the cheer!” the goalie blurted out.
The entire room erupted in a chorus of “We're red! We're white! We're dynamite! We got the power, the speed; we're the number one team! Go red!”
Once the cheering died down, Ryan tapped Brendon on the shoulder and smiled through his mouth guard “Remember the plan! You pass it to me when you have it and I'll pass it to you when I have it!”
“Every game dude! We're so gonna win this thing!” Brendon beamed back. He held out his glove to Ryan, who bumped it with his own, commencing their elaborate handshake that involved claps, snaps, fake punches, and a spin. They masterfully performed it, despite wearing all of their hockey equipment and the unnerving stares of fellow players and hockey parents.
The whistle blew again and Brendon’s father yelled out “Time to hit the ice boys!”
The clatter of skate guards being pulled off of their respective blades echoed through the small change room. One by one, the boys began grabbing their sticks off of the wall and leaving the change room. After a minuscule walk, they were on the ice. Brendon couldn't help but feel like he belonged there. Forget his house, home was where his skates and stick clipped and scraped against the ice.
They warmed up for the allowed three minutes, and then lined up for the faceoff. Ryan took centre and Brendon took the left wing. The whistle blew, and the puck dropped. Ryan won the faceoff, as he always did. Their first few shifts were very uneventful. No goals, no penalties, no injuries. There often weren’t in their games.
The buzzer sounded and the last shift of the game began. Brendon and Ryan’s line skated out to the faceoff one last time. The puck dropped, and Ryan won the faceoff once again. He passed the puck to Brendon on the left, who attempted to bring the puck forward. The player on the other team had him blocked and he deked around him. Unfortunately, his efforts failed and he went tumbling onto the ice. Possession of the puck was now with the other team, and they managed to bring the puck far enough to take a shot on the net. The goalie, Spencer, dropped to his knees and splayed his pads horizontally across the ice and stopped the puck, something Brendon had never seen another kid do. He tried to whistle at him but it came out weird and gargled through his mouthguard, which then fell out of his mouth. He chewed on the corner for a second, before skillfully using his tongue to get it back in.
The boys lined up for another faceoff, and Brendon couldn’t help but glance at the amount of time left on the clock. 1 minute and 23 seconds. The score was tied at zero. It was now or never. Ryan won the faceoff yet again. Brendon wasn’t sure he had ever seen Ryan lose a faceoff. The puck went to the right wing player, who successfully carried the puck up to their blue line, then passed it to Brendon. Brendon broke out and had a clear pathway to the opposing side, skating forward until he had a clear sightline of Ryan. He passed the puck to Ryan, who received the pass perfectly.
Ryan carried the puck forward slightly, preparing to take the shot. The defensemen were close on his tail and just as he took it, the blade of his skate caught on the ice and he went tumbling forward. Brendon hoped he wasn’t hurt.
Luckily the puck was already in motion, and it slid past the goalie, between the goalposts- the first and only goal scored during the game.
The buzzer sounded, but Brendon could barely hear it over his own excitement and shouts of joy. On his knees, he slid over to Ryan, who hadn’t even bothered to get up off the ice to celebrate. Brendon and Ryan sat on the ice together cheering and laughing as the rest of their team had surrounded the goalie, hugging him and patting his head.
When they calmed down, Ryan sat up and the two boys grinned despite their mouthguards. The rest of the players were already leaving the ice, and they stood up, still buzzed on their victory, and followed their team off.
As soon as they made it to the change room, Brendon’s helmet was off and his mouth was flying.
“That was amazing! First the save, and then Brent took it up with him, totally faking out that one player, and whoosh! The puck comes to me, and I get it closer, waiting for you to be ready and then everything’s happening so fast, the puck is with you, you take the shot and then trip and it’s all slow again, and I’m trying to get there to cover you in case it doesn’t go in, but it went in! We won!” He stopped to inhale loudly and Ryan laughed.
“Dude, that games was tough, I thought it was gonna end a tie,” Ryan said.
“Yeah well, it didn’t because of you!”
“And you,” Ryan reminded.
“Yeah! And now we get slushies!” Brendon gushed. Brendon always looked forward to his post-point-scoring slushie, as any Canadian boy between the ages of 5 and 12 did.
His father motioned for him to sit down and he complied, plopping down on the bench near his bag. His father unlaced his skates for him, all the while Brendon chattered on.
“I can’t believe we won! This is the best day of my life!” He exclaimed.
“You boys did a very good job today,” Brendon’s dad agreed.
The boys continued to excitedly talk about the game that had just ended while they pulled off equipment piece by piece. The room was filled with tiny triumphant voices laughing and bragging about how great they had been during the game.
Once the majority of the boys were changed, Brendon’s dad let out a shrill whistle.
“Okay boys, I want you to listen up! That was a great game you played out there today. You played your hardest and managed to pull through at the end,” he said. “We had a great season together and you boys really learned to work as a team. I know you’re all going to become great hockey players and I’m proud to be your coach.”
The players cheered, and the coaches along with them.
“Now we’ve got a couple of awards to give out to some outstanding players on the team. First, our MVP of the Game is Ryan Ross for his strong offensive playing and for scoring the winning goal of the season!”
They all cheered again and Ryan weaved through hockey bags and pieces of equipment that had been tossed to the ground to collect his medal. Coach Urie hung it around his neck him and shook his hand, and as Ryan turned around he smiled at Brendon.
Brendon’s dad was already announcing the next award as Ryan sat down, “And our most improved player of the year is out exceptional goalie, Spencer Smith!”
“Good job!” Brendon whispered to Ryan as all the people in the room cheered for Spencer. “You deserved it!” Brendon was really very happy for his friend; he knew he deserved the recognition he had just received. Brendon was going to win the sportsmanship award anyways. He could feel it in his bones.
“Thanks!” Ryan beamed. “I couldn’t have done it without you! You were the one who passed me the puck!”
A Jon Walker was called up to receive the sportsmanship award, and Brendon’s face fell. Ryan must have noticed and poked Brendon’s arm.
“Hey, you should have won something too,” he said and Brendon’s eyes started to fill up.
Ryan looked at Brendon in alarm, “No wait! Since you helped me get the goal it’s only fair that you get a medal too! So we can share mine!”
Brendon’s eyes widened, wiping the water that was just beginning to pool away, “Really? You mean it?”
“Yeah!” Ryan smiled as his tiny fingers fiddled with the ring connecting the medal to the ribbon it hung from. He pulled the medal off, then held out the red, white and blue striped ribbon for Brendon. Brendon’s eyes lit up as the ribbon transferred between their hands. Did Ryan really mean this?
“Dude! This is the best! You’re the best!” he beamed, then went to hug Ryan. The were of course, separated by several layers of padding, but it was still an appropriate gesture.
After, the two focused on getting their equipment off and out of the changeroom.
Ryan’s mom was waiting by the doors of the arena, and Ryan ran over to her, his hockey bag rolling along behind him. Brendon skipped behind him, the sounds of their tower bags rolling in sync.
“Mom look!” Brendon overheard him yell, watching him thrust the medal at her. “I’m the MVP!”
She smiled and took the medal from his hands, “I‘m proud of you.”
“Mom can I get a slushie?” Ryan asked and Brendon looked at his own father hopefully.
They relented and both the boys were given five dollar bills to buy large slushies. The two ran to get in line behind parents and their kids buying doughnuts, hot chocolate and coffee.
“Hey Ryan my birthday party is soon, you gotta come!” Brendon exclaimed. “I was gonna ask before but I forgot.”
“I need to ask my mom,” Ryan replied. “I hope I can go.”
“Me too!”
Brendon stepped up to the snack bar in front of Ryan and pushed his five dollars on to the counter, “One large slushie please.”
“Which flavour?” The lady working the snackbar asked.
“All of them!” he replied.
Ryan giggled, and pushed his own money on to the counter, “May I have a large blue slushie?”
The lady took their money and gave them change, then left to get their slushies. She came back with a fluorescent blue one and a brown-ish purple one.
“Thank you!” Brendon said and the boys took their slushies and returned back to their parents.
The two adults were deep in conversation when they returned and Brendon huddled close behind his dad. Ryan’s mom was distressed as she spoke.
“-and I’m not putting up with it any longer,” she hissed. “Either he goes, or I will.”
Ryan frowned and turned away from his mom to fiddle with the zippers on his hockey bag. Brendon sucked the sour-tasting drink through his straw as he stared at Ryan, who refused to make eye contact.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Danielle,” Brendon’s dad spoke softly. “Have you been talking about it at all?”
She let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m trying to but he’s never home. He’s not even trying anymore.”
Brendon’s dad tutted sympathetically and Brendon figured the conversation was over so he could butt in.
“Dad can Ryan come to my birthday party?” he asked, tugging at his father’s sleeve.
His father looked down and said, “Sure, I’ll email Ryan’s parents all the info.”
He turned back to Ryan’s mom, “If you ever need us to watch Ryan be sure to give us a call. Bren certainly won’t mind.”
Mrs Ross nodded graciously, “Thank you. Ryan and I should be going now. Come on, honey.”
Ryan looked at Brendon then quickly at his mom and nodded.
“Bye Ryan!” Brendon called as they walked away, but Ryan didn’t look back at him.
Two weeks later, at his birthday party, Brendon waited for hours but to his disappointment, Ryan never showed up.